


The Seventh Son: Act Two, In Taberna

by strixus



Series: The Book of Dreams [7]
Category: Gundam Wing, The Endless
Genre: Crossover, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-27
Updated: 2009-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-05 08:49:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 12,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strixus/pseuds/strixus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Estuans interius Burning inside<br/>ira vehementi with violent anger,<br/>in amaritudine bitterly<br/>loquor mee menti: I speak to my heart:<br/>factus de materia, created from matter,<br/>cinis elementi of the ashes of the elements,<br/>similis sum folio, I am like a leaf<br/>de quo ludunt venti. with by the winds.</p></blockquote>





	1. Estuans interius, Part One - A Messenger of the Devil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Estuans interius Burning inside  
> ira vehementi with violent anger,  
> in amaritudine bitterly  
> loquor mee menti: I speak to my heart:  
> factus de materia, created from matter,  
> cinis elementi of the ashes of the elements,  
> similis sum folio, I am like a leaf  
> de quo ludunt venti. with by the winds.

Destruction knew before the messenger came to him that there was something else interested and drawn to earth by this war, and had known it even before he had set foot upon the soil or breath in the air. He had spent a few hours cleaning the house, extracting it from the leafy embrace of the wisteria, finding the salvageable furniture and dishes and such. The place had been well preserved for only a few hundred years having passed, and would have been beyond saving to mortal hands. But Destruction had rebuilt it in those few hours to near immaculate conditions. And now he sat in his sun room overlooking the cliffs of the island, looking out into the blue Mediterranean's expanse that vanished into the curvature of the earth, the wave caps frosted silver in the light of a now full moon.

The messenger appeared on his threshold in a whisper of hot winds, a bent and shabby creature of too many limbs and joints and eyes, grasping at the door frame with claws that grated on the woodwork. Brown, coarse cloth draped its form, ragged and torn, stained by substances beyond identification: the cloth was an attempt to hide its form, to cover the majority of its ugliness, failing miserably. Eyes of chipped emerald and gold, like the wings of beetles, stared out from under the hood, focusing on to Destruction's broad back. Destruction did not need to turn to know his visitor's presence, nor did he need it to speak to announce its purpose or its master.

"Great Lord," its voice was like the grating of broken glass and bone, "I bring you greetings from my master."

Destruction did not turn, did not rise from his chair, and did not even twitch the hand that held the glass of dark red wine. He knew this creature, and knew its master, and knew its tricks and whiles better than it did, perhaps.

"Great Lord," it began again, and then stopped. Destruction had raised a thick arm suddenly, cutting it off.

"Alixon, aren't you? Its been a while since I've seen your sort stalking the mortal realm." The creature gurgled through needle teeth. "Your master is still the same master you've always born. He wants the same as he always wants. He-"

The creature suddenly began a burst of flurried speech. "No, no! Master Epyon, he wants not that, not his always prize, stolen from him. He wants your permission, your allowance, to enter this world, to walk once more on its green grass, to fly its blue skies..."

"Bah. Your master wants the same as I. He came to the call of war. He's as helpless to it as I." The Alixon blubbered, its many arms twitching like a dying millipede. Then, his eyes narrowing but still not turned to look at the Alixon, "And why come to me. Surly your master has not slept so long to know that I have no more power in this world. I have forsaken my duties, dismantled my gallery. Humanity, and the universe along with it, has outgrown its need for me. It manages well enough on its own. What then does your master want with me?"

The Alixon's voice was sly, careful. "You are kindred spirits, he has said."

Destruction was silent, pondering the night sea, the glitter of stars, the too bright moon. "That may be," he said quietly, then louder, "Tell your master I will consider it. If he offers a high enough boon, perhaps I might. Tell your master that."

The Alixon vanished, blown away on hot winds like grains of sand stacked in a dune, leaving Destruction alone once more to the sea and the wine and the stars and the too bright moon. Destruction rose from his seat and walked towards the full windows of the wall, grasping the glass of wine in his hand like a drowning man clings to a life buoy. He would not bargain with this devil, the eldest devil, though he would play its game for a while before he tired of it. And yet, its offers could tempt him, for he had no responsibility to this world or any other.

It was a most dangerous game.


	2. Estuans interius, Part Two - Waiting for a Guest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cum sit enim proprium If it is the way  
> viro sapienti of the wise man  
> supra petram ponere to build  
> sedem fundamenti, foundations on stone,  
> stultus ego comparor the I am a fool, like  
> fluvio labenti, a flowing stream,  
> sub eodem tramite which in its course  
> nunquam permanenti. never changes.

It was late in the Luxembourg evening, the sun casting the last of a day's worth of light in a golden desperation across the rooftops of the city. The Pétrusse and Alzette became great golden serpents, whose coils rolled through the streets, wrapping around the buildings, listless and seemingly asleep. The rest of the city seemed asleep as well, though it was early still for Treize Kushrednada, who had risen late this day, finding sleep more necessary than any other preparation for his dinner guest whom would be arriving shortly.

Dr. Christopher Armando DeWitt, known more casually as Chris, was a professor of Philosophy from the notable but relatively unknown North American University, Miskatonic. But it was Dr. DeWitt's hobby outside of his more mundane academic pursuits that made his experience invaluable to Treize. Following in a tradition that seemed unique to Misatonic's faculty and staff, he was an expert in, for lack of a better term, the otherworldly. DeWitt had an almost encyclopedic knowledge of forces unexplained and unknown to modern science, and access to volumes more beyond what he was familiar with off the cuff. Treize knew that if anyone could solve the mysteries of the Gundam's seemingly supernatural power, it would be Chris.

All this ran through Treize's mind as he dressed, choosing something notably less formal than his usual modern adaptations of the 17th century French styles he was fond of. The Japanese yukata was an unusual item of clothing in Treize's wardrobe, one he was fond of for such informal yet important meetings. The fabric was light, a watered silk that was unique in its texture and quality, made from silkworms that had lived their lives and died in vats completely in the near weightlessness of space. Its blue was a dark, near indigo colour, with a strange rippling of silver overtone that appeared in certain lighting, and it hung in strait, even pleats from the wide, white silk belt at his waist to a hem that was even with his ankles. Looking in a mahogany framed mirror, he ran a bare hand through ginger hair still wet from his bath earlier in the evening, and sighed pensively.

Padding out of his rather large closet, into the hallway of the house that served as his prison, Treize felt very much like a silk clad bear in a house filled with the delicate remains of the Victorian era that had spawned Romafeller and its ilk. He wanted badly to escape this silk and stone prison, to shake loose bonds made of power and money. The house staff was abuzz around him as he walked down to the first level of the house, to the library. A room dark and removed from the rest of the house, it was the one place Treize felt even passably relaxed in the house. Surrounded by books, as seemingly archaic a thing as a warrior such as himself, he felt somewhat at peace. And it was here, in this room filled with the moldering volumes of some lost owner, Treize would wait for Chris DeWitt.

He did not have to wait long.


	3. Estuans interius, Part Three - Death Comes in the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feror ego veluti I am carried along  
> sine nauta navis, like a ship without a steersman,  
> ut per vias aeris and in the paths of the air  
> vaga fertur avis; like a light, hovering bird;  
> non me tenent vincula, chains cannot hold me,  
> non me tenet clavis, keys cannot imprison me,  
> quero mihi similes I look for people like me  
> et adiungor pravis. and join the wretches.

Duo Maxwell awoke with a start, sitting up in bed suddenly, sheets falling off him into a jumble around his hips. His breathing was rapid, his heart felt as though it were trying to jackhammer it's way through his rib cage. For a moment, his mind was a blur of half awake thoughts and half dreaming motion, and all he could feel clearly was the coldness of the golden chain around his neck, and the golden cross that hung from it. Instinctively, blindly, his hand went to it, finding comfort in its familiar, smooth shape.

What had he been dreaming? He remembered little, remembered the tattered bits of what felt like a familiar nightmare. The fires at the orphanage, the acrid smoke hanging in the air, screams of terror, confusion. But there had been something more than this horror of past memory, something that had invaded this dream he had almost grown familiar with, that dream of terrors from his past. Something huge, with fangs and claws, and too many limbs and eyes, something with wings that had blackened the sky worse than smoke. He remembered those wings, more than anything. Wings the colour of madness, he though, but did not really understand what made him think that. It had been calling him, calling out his name over and over again, in a tongueless voice that sounded like pain given words.

Duo shivered, feeling the cool air settle against the dampness of sweat on his skin. The dreams were getting worse, he thought, worse since Quatre had seemingly gone mad in the belly of that horrible new Gundam he had built. That suit, Death had said, had a Chaos demon in its belly, a creature of war and destruction. But she hadn't seemed scared of it. That was comforting, in a strange way, but then again, what would Death be scared of?

His breathing had slowed, his heart had stopped pounding against his ribs so hard that it hurt, and he felt himself calming down, sliding back into that restful mode that came right before sleep. It had been a bad dream, that was all, he comforted himself, telling himself it was nothing more than his fears and worries intruding into old terrors. If there were anything really wrong, anything that would endanger him, She would tell him, he told himself. Mamma will tell me, he though, curling back into the sheets, pulling the blanket over him to ward off the chill, closing violet eyes to find sleep again. Mamma will tell me.

And the sound of gentile wings filled the darkened room, and she was there, sitting on the foot of the bed, dark eyes full of pain and hurt, sadness touching the eyes of Death like nothing else could. Her clothing was as black as always, velvet cloak invisible against the darkness of the windowless room, hood pulled up so that only her pale face showed. She sat silently for a moment, hand resting on Duo's left foot that stuck out from under the sheets. It was small, pale, and delicately boned, but lined with scars and calluses.

"Oh my little Yasuo, little peaceful child, always the good son. You wonder what could make your Mamma afraid." She hesitates, her voice soft, like feathers on a brooding bird's belly. "Afraid of what's coming, of what has to be. Your Mamma's afraid of that. Afraid when you fight Zephiruxs it will be that golden haired angle in its belly and not the one it should be, afraid of Epyon, who is lurking in the shadows, afraid that you will turn away from me. Most afraid of that." She looked down across the sleeping form, and smiled softly. "Mamma will keep you as safe as she can, little one. But even I can't protect you from Epyon."

The room was filled again with the sound of wings, quiet and distant, and she was gone, without a ripple in the darkness. The pale, small foot that lay exposed was now smooth, unblemished, like that of a newborn child.


	4. Estuans interius, Part Four - An Introduction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mihi cordis gravitas The heaviness of my heart  
> res videtur gravis; seems like a burden to me;  
> iocis est amabilis it is pleasant to joke  
> dulciorque favis; and sweeter than honeycomb;  
> quicquid Venus imperat, whatever Venus commands  
> labor est suavis, Is a sweet duty,  
> que nunquam in cordibus she never dwells  
> habitat ignavis. in a lazy heart.

The man who entered the library was tall, topping out at a gangly two meters of brown tweed, orange and blue argyle and tan suede. His skin was pale, almost waxy looking, with a spattering of bleached looking freckles. Hair that would have almost been the same ginger brown as Treize's own was slicked back heavily, immobile under its casing of hair gel. A smile filled his face, rendering out any semblance of cruelty his hawkish nose would have given it otherwise, and his hazel eyes were alight with some inner amusement, as though the whole world were telling jokes that only he could hear. Absent were the small, round spectacles Treize remembered from the familiar face, but beyond that, it was as though Chris DeWitt had not changed at all since he had made his study abroad years ago to Miskatonic University in the wilds of New England.

"Chris," Treize said, standing and extending his hand in greeting, "It's so good to see you again."  
Chris took the offered hand, smiling still. "Yes, very. Though why a dinner date should be so important to fly me here all the way from the hindquarters of the earth is beyond me. Or did you simply miss me that much?"

Treize could not help but laugh. "That's conversation for later, my friend. For now, let's talk less serious talk on empty stomachs. What have you been up to since you last wrote?"

Taking a seat in an overstuffed library chair opposite the one Treize had claimed, DeWitt settled in to answer the question. "Fairing better than you seem to be, my friend. Miskatonic has been treating me well, as always, though I wish I could say the same for the chair of the department. An absolute terror she is! Convinced of all sorts of strange notions concerning theology. But I won't bore you with departmental politics." He flipped a hand dismissive. "I've been teaching, what else? Damned boring work at a university that small, especially teaching intro classes to students who have absolutely no conception of what thinking is, let alone any idea of how to do it. The students seem to get less bright every semester." Chris stopped, and in the pause, Treize took a chance to ask a question.

"What happened to your glasses?"

Chris laughed, "Surgery. Finally, I got the treacherous little windows to the soul fixed so that I could see the world beyond my nose. I didn't mention it in my letters because it wasn't that important. But gods and beings beyond, I'd almost forgotten you knew me when I had them. It has been a long while since our years at Miskatonic together."

"Yes, that it has. You've gone and gotten your doctorate, I've gained a good amount of rank and clout..." Treize paused, then laughed a bit at himself. "And made some brilliant career moves." He shrugged, and DeWitt laughed softly. "Ah, could be worse, as you're so damned fond of saying."

 

At that moment, a light rap on the door was followed by the voice of the butler, whom announced that dinner was ready to be served. Silently, both men rose from their chairs, and left the library, following the elderly butler to the dinning room. The dinning room was the smaller of the two main rooms of the ground floor, designed for meals with less than twenty guests, and absolutely cavernous feeling for only two people. It was far better, Treize considered, than only one. Both allowed themselves to be seated, facing each other across the narrow span of the six person table. Soup was already on the table, a rich venison stew made from a red doe Treize himself had shot earlier in the week in the Romafeller hunting park. In silence, they both ate the first course.

It was only two courses latter, during the serving of the deserts, that either one spoke again.


	5. Estuans interius, Part Five - In The Dreaming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Via lata gradior I travel the broad path  
> more iuventutis as is the way of youth,  
> inplicor et vitiis I give myself to vice,  
> immemor virtutis, unmindful of virtue,  
> voluptatis avidus I am eager for the pleasures of the flesh  
> magis quam salutis more than for salvation,  
> mortuus in anima my soul is dead,  
> curam gero cutis. so I shall look after the flesh.

In the palace that lies at the center of the Dreaming there are more rooms than there are stars in the sky, but there are only seven hallways. Each hall leads, more or less, from the throne room at the center of the Dreaming to a gateway at the farthest border of the Dreaming. They are arrayed in a roughly starfish pattern, though they meander much through the ever shifting landscape. Only one, the Great Hall, has any static path, and it is at the end of this Hall, and later path through the Dreaming that the great gates of the Dreaming are found, the Gates of Horn and Ivory.

Dream is standing at these gates, as he has a habit of doing, dark eyes following the great flow of false dreams through the gates of Ivory. And Dream was, as he had a habit of doing as well, brooding.

Something had passed through the Gates of Horn, the gates of true dreams and nightmares, without his permission. Something had entered the Dreaming, and found its way into the dreams of mortals and gods. What concerned him more, however, was that none of the sentries of the Dreaming had alerted to an intruder, which meant that what had entered his realm was something very powerful, something perhaps as old as the Dreaming itself. He had suspected perhaps an old god, or one of the giants from the Before time, whose ilk had died to create these very gates, but now, standing here, Dream knew such was not the case.

Dream frowned.

He knew what it was, knew what had walked brazenly through the Gates of Horn, and was concerned by the prospect. Third eldest of the Endless he may be, but only one Endless had ever battled this beast and lived, and that had been Destruction, who now wandered the universe without ties to his station or duty. Dream had fought his share of gods and demons, even challenged the wits of Lucifer himself, but this -

Epyon had been the Devil of the early universe, a creature of raw Chaos and hate, master of legions of the dark and unseemly creatures of the dark days before order had been wrought from Chaos. Dream knew that even the darkest creature had its place in the order of existence, but Epyon defied that order through his very existence. Epyon and its brother, Zephiruxs, had been born from the very stuff of creation, that primal substance from which all substance had sprung. They were almost as old Death, slightly older than Destiny, and far older than he, who had only come into being with the first want.

Dream knew that Epyon had already left the Dreaming, for its foul taint was already lessening, already being lost under the spore of other dreams. He pondered, wondering the implications of Epyon's freedom. If Epyon wandered free, then so did its brother, Zephiruxs. No two beasts made from the same substance were ever so different as Zephiruxs and Epyon. Zephiruxs, who had sided with the Endless in the first wars of Creation, and Epyon, who had transcended time itself to find vengeance on his brother for that betrayal.

Dream looked about, knowing what he had to do, but yet still hesitating. With a reluctant shrug, he passed back through the Gates of Horn, swinging them closed behind him. They shut with a hollow clang, a sound like metal teeth clicking. Dream secured the lock, and then spoke the words that sealed the gates of the passage of true dreams. None would enter; none would leave, until this trouble had passed.


	6. Cignus ustus cantat, Part One - In the Dawn Hours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Olim lacus colueram, Once I lived on lakes,  
> olim pulcher extiteram, once I looked beautiful  
> dum cignus ego fueram. when I was a swan.
> 
> Miser, miser! Misery me!  
> modo niger Now black  
> et ustus fortiter! and roasting fiercely!

Destruction had one more caller that night, one he did not expect; though in retrospect he realized he should have. She came in the dawn hours, as the moon was setting into the waters of the Mediterranean, and the stars were just beginning to be washed out on the far edge of the sky. Youngest of the endless, and dearest of his siblings to his heart, poor Delirium had come searching once more to his old island home. She came, but it was not her he felt first: it was Barnabas.

He had been lost in thought, lost in watching the far distant battles play across the heavens in streaks of emerald and blooms of red, the tale-tell marks of oxygen flame, when he had felt a warm and furry presence under his dangling right hand. At first, he thought it only the sensation of memory, brought on by this familiar place and a lonely heart. Barnabas, his long time companion, whom he had given up when leaving this world to wander the distant reaches of creation, had always done that when missing his attention. But a warm tongue and cold nose had brushed across his fingers, and a plaintive whine that only Barnabas's human voice could produce had brought him into reality.

Barnabas stood where he had stood so many times before, directly beside this chair that overlooked the sea. His coat was a bit worse for wear, and he seemed more jumpy and edgy than he had before, but beyond those, he seemed the same brown and white dog he had been so many years before.

Destruction stood, and knelt at dog level, embracing Barnabas around the neck and asking, rhetorically, "Barnabas, is that really you?"

"I should hope so, though I'd be inclined to ask the same of you." Barnabas said in his usual, overly curt manner.

"I should have thought that you'd come find me -"

"I didn't come find you, She" Barnabas looked over his shoulder, back towards the door, "came and found you."

Standing in the door, leaning against the door frame, was Delirium, much the same as she had been when he had left, if just a little more mature looking. Her shirt was cut short, torn and stained, mostly hidden by a very baggy flight jacket, its leather faded and wool mangy seeming, below which a pair of red denim pants, saggy and shredded, covered her skinny legs. She wore no shoes, and her toenails, as were her fingernails, were painted a bright, unnatural colour green. Her hair was blond, streaked in purple, and pulled back in a matted ponytail, off to one side of her head.

"Brother? Is that really you? I mean, it seems to be you, but is it really really you? The you that left, that is, is it that you? Or is it some other you?"

He cut her off before she managed to even confuse him. "It's really me, Del. It's good to see you, and Barnabas, again. Did you really come looking for me?"

She nodded quietly, flyaway strands of purple and blond hair bouncing in loose curls.

"Is there something wrong, Del?" She hesitated, then nodded again. "What is it?"

She looked around, almost a little panicky. "Things have been going all weird. And I don't mean weird normal like they do around me, but weird very weird, with the whole world, and even out beyond the world, out with those cute little space stations they build that look like toys except Barnabas says I shouldn't play with them."

"What do you mean, Del? You mean the war?"

She nodded, but not as definitely as the last two times. "I made a friend, a pretty blond boy who plays violin and piano, and sings so pretty, but something happened to him, something bad. Out in space, something got him, something big and strange and ugly. Not like the big old one living in that funny metal suit of his wasn't ugly enough, but something got a hold of him."

"Is your friend fighting in the war? Is he one of the pilots?" Destruction was becoming curious. He wondered if this had anything to do with Epyon.

"Yes. He's so sweet and so nice, so hard to believe he could kill people, but he does. But oh! That new metal suit, that new thing of his, that he built, it's got something bad feeling in it. That big, white demon, with the feathered wings, who speaks in all those voices at once. It is in the suit! Oh..." Her voice trailed off. "It's hurting him, brother, it's hurting him bad." Delirium's voice was quiet.

So that was it. That was what Epyon was really after: its brother demon, which had betrayed the legions of Chaos during the wars of first Creation. That was what had awoken it, and called it here. Someone had imprisoned Zephiruxs into a mobile suit, and now Epyon sought it to find vengeance.

He walked over to Del, Barnabas at his heels, and embraced her, nearly smothering her in a great, brotherly bear hug. She was crying, silver tears falling from eyes both green and blue, the blue one streaked with silver.

"Don't worry, little one, I'll protect your friend." I came to fight in this war, he added to himself; the least I can do is fight for something worth fighting for.


	7. Cignus ustus cantat, Part Two - After Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Tenor)  
> Girat, regirat garcifer; The servant is turning me on the spit;  
> me rogus urit fortiter; I am burning fiercely on the pyre:  
> propinat me nunc dapifer, the steward now serves me up.
> 
> (Male Chorus)  
> Miser, miser! Misery me!  
> modo niger Now black  
> et ustus fortiter! and roasting fiercely!

The library was dark now, a cavern of bookshelves and wood paneling, echoing with the sounds of the brightly crackling fire and the soft treble of an indiscernible aria. Treize again sat beside his guest, both relaxing before the fire, indulging in after dinner brandies. Not a word had passed between the two men throughout dinner, and even now Treize was reluctant to bring up the business that he had invited Chris here to discuss. But Treize found that his guest was far more eager to discuss the matter than he was.

"So," Chris began, leaning forwards towards the fire, "What puzzle has you so thought bound that you called me here all the way from Miskatonic, yet you haven't said a word since we started dinner?"

"When I tell you, you're going to think its either the greatest puzzle of all time, or you're going to think I've gone raving mad, Chris."

Treize took another sip of his brandy and looked towards the fire.

"I have never known you to be the sort to go raving mad without notice," Chris laughed. "Seriously, how off the wall can this idea be if you think a professor from Miskatonic University is going to laugh at it?"

"These Gundams I've mentioned to you in our correspondence, that have made matters so complicated and have so frustrated my plans, have me at my wit's ends, Chris. Oz has had the opportunity to study one in detail, and yet the source of their incredible power remains a mystery to us. Our engineers are at a loss to explain what they see from the battle footage we have, because the systems of these mobile suits should not be capable of what has been observed." He paused, suddenly lost in thought. The fire crackled softly, casting a strange light into Treize's half closed eyes. Chris suddenly saw the changes that time had wrought on his friend disturbing. There was a darkness there that had not been there those years ago.

Still looking into the fire, Treize continued. "I would be tempted to write it off to their pilots, but, though incredible as those boys might be, they are only that, human boys. So that leads me to conclude that there is something about the Gundams that our engineers and scientists have missed, something beyond their comprehension or skills to detect."

"You suspect something super- or preternatural, then?" Chris interrupted.

"Yes. I suspect just that," Treize said, "That's why I turned to you for help. If I can find out what is it that gives the Gundams their incredible power, then perhaps it can either be harnessed by OZ, or turned against the Gundams."

Chris could not help but laugh. "I never thought I was in danger of becoming a military researcher. But what the hell, this sounds fascinating. Do you have any suspicions as to what sort of force we might be dealing with?" His brows furrowed in thought, coming to a point over the hawkish nose.

Treize shrugged. " I couldn't begin to tell you, Chris. I just don't know about such things." He finished off the brandy in a final sip. "I'll make available to you all the information we have about the Gundams, even the samples left from the one we captured for a while. I want this mystery solved."

 

Floating beyond the orbit of the moon, closer now than it had been able to come in many millenniums, Epyon floated in the comforting bite of raw vacuum, wings folded around its body, cold and dark, except for the burning of the sapphire chip eyes invisible against the blackness of space. Its attention was far off, listening to the conversations of a powerful mortal who had drawn its ear. Epyon knew the secret the man sought, for it could hear the voices of its distant relatives calling in the old tongues to it now. Shinigami still sang in the voice of shadows, Haeypabbyissealis still called out its challenges into the night, Agni still blazed like a beacon across space, and most seductive of all was the song of the White Demon. Epyon could hear its brother's song calling out so tantalizingly close, and hungered now for revenge.

It would court the favor of this pair of mortals, and perhaps through their folly, it could again enter the sphere of this world.


	8. Cignus ustus cantat, Part Three - A Delay and Distraction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Tenor)  
> Nunc in scutella iaceo, Now I lie on a plate,  
> et volitare nequeo and cannot fly anymore,  
> dentes frendentes video: I see bared teeth:
> 
> (Male Chorus)  
> Miser, miser! Misery me!  
> modo niger Now black  
> et ustus fortiter! and roasting fiercely!

Duo Maxwell found himself walking down the streets of the lower level of the colony city space, an area known as the Down Below, as the evening set in. He had awoken that morning after his luncheon with Death feeling better than he had in years, rested in ways he hadn't felt in ages, if ever. But as the day progressed, he had felt confined by his flat, and by Hilde's continued presence in it, and had set out an hour ago to cross the city to the Down Below. Now he was walking the maze like streets of the shantytown beneath the carefully crafted city above, looking for the familiar green and red neon sign of a bar. He had found it once many weeks ago, and had shortly become a regular there. He had originally gone there searching for companionship and bar friends: tonight he went there simply looking for a good drink.

The Lucky Dragon was on a central square of sorts, at the intersection of several winding corridors, built against the wall of what had once been a service corridor from scrap metal scavenged or bought from salvage yards. Its great green and red dragon sign was a mystery to most colony dwellers; none could begin to guess how it had made its way into space, let alone come to adorn such a small place as The Lucky Dragon.

All around the square, Duo saw the people of the Down Below, walking to shops, bartering for their daily means, or looking for an easy mark. Prostitutes and thieves intermixed with the crowd, each attempting to make their living in their own way. That was what this was about, really, making a living - or more aptly, staying alive. A female prostitute was leaning on the outside of the Lucky Dragon, dressed in a long black fishnet dress, showing off far more than Duo was interested in seeing.

"You're turning tricks in the wrong place, little girl." Duo said as he stepped close to the door. Little girl was right, she could be no older than himself, he realized, looking at her pale face with short cropped hair and ring pierced nose.

She smiled at him, and laughed, saying, "Sometimes the door swings both ways here, friend. Sometimes I catch them on the rebound." Duo laughed with her, and shook her hand, passing her a few credit coins in his palm as he walked through the door.

The prostitute's laugh was lost in the sudden mellow blare of a low blues guitar that was singing in instrumental ecstasy under the talented manipulations of Louie, the owner of the Lucky Dragon, who was playing on stage. A mutt of Asian and African, Louie was a century old if he was a day, but his cat green eyes cut like a knife across the room of the bar, watching the entire room as he played. It was his way of overseeing the bar, Duo knew, and he provided free entertainment in the process.

Sliding through the crowd like a cat, Duo made his way to the bar and found a free stool at the far end. The man seated next to him was obviously already started on a good night's binge, perhaps coming on the coattails the tail end of a good day's binge judging by the fact he was completely drunk. Duo frowned at the man, and adjusted the faux clerical collar at his throat, looking for the bartender to place his first order for the evening. After a few moments, the bartender at last came back down to Duo's end of the bar.

"What will it be?" Duo found himself looking into a pair of eyes identical to Louie's, but three fourths of a century younger: cat green, sharp and alert, turned with the slight Asian slant that gave Louie's eyes wisdom. Set now into the youthful face in front of him, they were exotic, especially paired with the shock of waist long blond hair. Duo swallowed hard, and found his voice again.

"The house ale." Duo said, and then watched, transfixed, as the young man retreated to the bar taps to draw his order of the Lucky Dragon's home brewed ale. It was the first time Duo had ever seen another man with hair as long as his own, and in the almost white blond color, the effect was startling.

Duo was brought back to reality by the thunk of a full glass of ale in front of him.

"That will be one twenty five." Duo passed him a credit card, and told him to start a tab for him.  
As the barkeeper returned the card, Duo final got up the guts to say what he was thinking. The man smiled a bright, effeminate smile at Duo, and thanked him for the complement.

The complement tuned out to start a running conversation that continued for most of the night. It ended simply, five hours later, as the barkeep set down yet another glass of the Lucky Dragon ale.

"I get off in another hour and a half, want to go to my place afterward? I'll cook us dinner." The blond man asked, putting a hand on Duo's that sat on the bar.

"I'd love to." Duo answered.

As the night crew swept out the floor of the Lucky Dragon, none noticed a pair of figures seated at a stage front table. One appeared to be a young woman, dressed entirely in black, with incredibly pale skin. The other was ageless, sexless, with short-cropped hair and painfully yellow eyes, dressed in a white suit with a black tie.

"There, sister dear, my debt to you is repaid finally." Desire said, flicking ash from the tip of a cigarette held in a long, black holder. "Though why you called in a four thousand year old debt to get that pet of yours into bed with that blond haired barkeep, I can't begin to understand."

"You always were a bit slow, Desire." Desire only looked coldly at her across the table. "I am protecting him. If he is in bed with the son of this establishment's owner, he is not out fighting nor is he in the arms of that trollop with the purple highlights who has taken to stalking him."

"You always were one to play favorites." Desire said spitefully.

Death looked across the table at it, and suddenly Desire saw her not as the young woman she usually seemed to be, but as the old, jackal headed god she had been once, when Desire had incurred the debt to her. Golden eyes seemed to stare into Desire's soul, had it had one to be stared into. When she spoke, it was in that long dead tongue, and with the dry tongue of the now dead god of death.

"You may not understand me, little sibling, but perhaps now you will learn never to gamble with Death."


	9. Ego sum abbas (I am the abbot) - An Interlude with Destiny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ego sum abbas Cucaniensis I am the abbot of Cockaigne  
> et consilium meum est cum bibulis, and my assembly is one of drinkers,  
> et in secta Decii voluntas mea est, and I wish to be in the order of Decius,  
> et qui mane me quesierit in taberna, and whoever searches me out at the  
> tavern in the morning,  
> post vesperam nudus egredietur, after Vespers he will leave naked,  
> et sic denudatus veste clamabit: and thus stripped of his clothes he  
> will call out:
> 
> (Baritone and Male Chorus)  
> Wafna, wafna! Woe! Woe!  
> quid fecisti sors turpassi what have you done, vilest Fate?  
> Nostre vite gaudia the joys of my life  
> abstulisti omnia! you have taken all away!

Destiny stood in the center of his Garden of Forking Ways, brown robes blowing in the ever-present wind of that place. In the wind rode the small, glowing beings that filled the inner sanctum of the second eldest of the endless, the spirits of mujo, the personifications of the bitter sweet impermanence of the world, and they settled around Destiny like flakes of glowing snow. The wind was blowing strong, in sharp gusts that tugged at the pages of the Great Book, and pulled at Destiny's very being. A confluence of events of great importance was coming, and his whole realm echoed with its portents.

Destiny found himself unable to support the weight of the Book and still read into its pages. In the last few centuries, the burden of the Book was beginning to take its toll, even on his immortal form. He was not the first to hold his position, nor would he be the last. He counted steps to the podium of the dais, and lay the Book carefully onto its polished surface, careful to adjust the chain that shackled him to the Book's spine so to allow free movement of his arm. Smoothing the pages against the ever-pressing gusts of wind, Destiny turned his blind eyes once more to the pages of the Great Book, and watched the actors of this new play act out their parts.

He watched as the sun rose over the island of Destruction, not surprised by his brother's return, nor by either of the two visitors whom had come in the night. Destruction had been expected to return in the wake of this war, a war so massive that it had called forth the war demons of the dark times. Destruction now stood on the balcony of his house, watching the sun, still drinking wine. He was considering the stakes of the game he played with his most dangerous of foes. With both the White Demon, Zephiruxs, and the Chaos Lord, Epyon, here, this had the makings of a war beyond wars. Zephiruxs, imprisoned and confined within the bonds of a war machine, was an easy target for Epyon's wrath. Destruction owed Zephiruxs much for his help against Epyon in many battles before, and now saw a way to pay back a few of those debts. But with Epyon free, it would soon find a way to be summoned in its full power into the sphere of Earth, and would easily be able to destroy Zephiruxs in his imprisoned state.

Destiny watched as the beginnings of a plan formed in Destruction's mind, a plan that would cripple Epyon's chance for vengeance. The smile on Destiny's face was bitter, for he remembered dealing with Zephiruxs, the White Demon who had betrayed his kind to side with the Endless in the first wars. The demon was a great beast, with six pairs of white-feathered wings; each pair arrayed with eyes of six different colors, and spoke with six different voices simultaneously. Zephiruxs was an awesome sight to behold, even for Destiny. Shaking his head, Destiny turned the page of the Great Book, watching yet another parallel line of the story begin to unfold.  
Bracing the pages again against the wind, Destiny watched as the boy who had built the prison that now held Zephiruxs was forced to confront his once comrades in a battle of madness. Caught between worlds, and fighting madness as well as friends who might be forced to kill if given no other choice, the boy whom had befriended the youngest and most fickle of the Endless battled for his life. Watching with the blind eyes of Destiny, his curse and gift, he watched the full ramifications of the battle unfold. He saw Delirium perched on the shoulder of the war machine that enclosed Zephiruxs, her miss-matched eyes gleaming with ice crystal tears. And he saw the White Demon lash out in a final blow against its attackers, beyond the intentions of its vision maddened pilot, and partially destroy one of the attackers. Grief stricken, the boy surrendered himself and the white suit to the opposition.

From this one event, ripples spread through the pages of the Great Book, creating eddies in the winds of the garden. From this one event, the course of the war would change, and along with it all fates connected to the war. Most importantly, it effected Epyon, who waited just beyond the orbit of the moon, in the darkness of interplanetary space. More than ever, Epyon had reason to reach out to strike at its wayward brother, and was become more desperate to strike soon. But with that desperation, Destiny saw, Epyon would begin making mistakes it could not afford to make. But most importantly, Destiny saw that Death's gambit with her scion had paid off, and had saved the young man's life.

Instead of dying as the final sacrifice of Zephiruxs in the battle to capture it, he was safe. Destiny found himself watching as Duo found himself waking in a strange bed, curled next to someone he found himself having difficulty remembering, with a splitting headache. Death had called in an owed favor owed to her by Desire, one gained when their androgynous sibling had gambled its people against Death in a wager, and had lost, and begged and scraped to save them. Death could have asked much more from Desire than what she had, Destiny knew, but saw now the reasoning in her actions. She had played her hand well, and gained much for herself and her scion in her action.

The gusts of winds were settling now, for the confluence had been delayed again, but again it was still coming. Something that would possibly lead to the greatest battle of all time, the dual between the brother demons that had been coming since the betrayal of the White Demon at the dawn of time. The outcome of that battle rested in the unlikely hands of a pair of mortals who sought, though unknowingly, to imprison an elder demon, very well Epyon itself. Destiny had hope that the mortal scholar who now studied the remains of the prison that had housed a demon who had been known as Tauluypeas the Club Footed, who had worn the body known as the Talgese to the mortals. Destiny believed the young man could unravel the mystery, and knew already that Destruction was planning his own ways to imprison Epyon.

A great battle was coming, Destiny knew, but knew that the battle of wits that was beginning before it was far more important than the final battle that would be fought in the upper atmosphere of Earth months later. It would be the end of this battle that decided the war, not the actions on the field of glory. Such was the nature of Destiny.


	10. In taberna quando sumus Part One - A Gamble With the Devil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In taberna quando sumus When we are in the tavern,  
> non curamus quid sit humus, we do not think how we will go to dust,  
> sed ad ludum properamus, but we hurry to gamble,  
> cui semper insudamus. which always makes us sweat.  
> Quid agatur in taberna What happens in the tavern,  
> ubi nummus est pincerna, where money is host,  
> hoc est opus ut queratur, you may well ask,  
> si quid loquar, audiatur. and hear what I say.

Destruction stood once more on the balcony of his old house, overlooking the sapphire spread of the eastern Mediterranean with eyes that simultaneously saw the entire vista, yet shut it out completely from the mind. Destruction was calculating a risk: a decision that could either save the existence of a valuable ally, or unleash a creature beyond the worst terrors of mankind on the world. Epyon must be stopped, this he knew, above all else. But better he humiliate the beast than attempt to destroy it, for his last attempt had nearly killed him along with a host of allies. Thus, it became necessary to find a way to imprison Epyon, a more permanent and lasting prison than the sleep from which it had most recently arisen. And in order to imprison the beast, Epyon must be ensnared, and tricked into believing its own schemes were coming to pass. All of this left Destruction back at where he had begun: he must now face Epyon and lure it into complacency without falling prey to its schemes himself. The words of a demon could be seductive, Destruction knew, and they had put the seal of death onto other Endless in the past. Destruction could not afford such a thing.

Destruction looked up into the blue of the daytime sky, seeing the washed out shadow of the moon hanging above the water, and knew that any further delay would only complicate matters. Epyon waited for him just beyond that pale orb, in the coldness of the in between of space. There they would meet on equal terms, and parlay for Epyon's passage to earth. Destruction knew if he played his cards right, he could actually win against the beast.

With less than a thought, passing in a blink of an eye, Destruction was no longer standing above the blue of the Mediterranean, but now stood improbably in the emptiness of trans lunar space, face to face with a thing from the nightmares of gods. Epyon's double set of hinged jaws opened in what could have been a grin in the mind of a madman, its long, serrated tongue lolling from the black, spine lined cavern at the base of its throat, dropped by the spreading jaws. Its entire head seemed made of eyes and nostrils and fangs, each eye a facet of sapphire and ruby chip, focusing independent of all others around it. As Destruction stepped forward, every horrible eye focused on him, and Epyon shifted its weight forward in its weightless state, extending its neck forward from the fetal ball of wings and arms and legs bound by the spines of its bony tail.

"Welcome, Brother." Its voice was filled with screams and the sound of flame, echoing emptily in the soundless vacuum. Its wings spread, coming alight with blue flame, and it extended a four jointed arm with two hands, one almost human looking but for the unusual amount of fingers, and the other a mass of claws, towards Destruction in a mock of welcome.

Destruction sneered. "You mock me, Epyon. Not a wise thing to do to someone who you court favors from. And you scare no one with that form, least of all me."

Epyon closed its wings, and seemed to fold in on its self until a form of almost human proportion reduced from the mass. Dressed in gray and burgundy, skin almost a translucent white, with a shock of silver hair that cascaded over the narrow shoulders, the form Epyon now took was almost normal by comparison to its true form. All that remained the same were the eyes, sapphire blue and burring with an unquenchable fire.

"I meant no disrespect, Destruction, if anything I meant just the opposite in greeting you so. Forgive me if I have let our meeting get off to a bad start." There was laughter in the voice, cruel and bighting, hidden behind a veil of coldness.

"Cut the chatter, Epyon. What is it you want from me, really?"

Blue eyes narrowed beneath silver brows. "I seek unrestricted entrance to the sphere of Earth. I thought my messenger had been clear on that point." Epyon sat down against empty space, crossing its legs primly.

"Hardly. What brings you here now, after you have slept so long?" Destruction folded his arms across his broad chest, impatient.

"You know that well, Destruction. I have heard that seductive call of war, and worse, I have heard my brother singing his battle cries. My very being vibrates with the need to battle, and to avenge myself against him. You of all should know this."

"You know the limitations on such things. You must be summoned into the sphere, and you must be summoned willingly. I can not coerce any human into summoning you -"

"Yes, but you can suggest such things to one of the factions. I'm sure that androgynous sibling of yours -" The fire in Epyon's eyes changed for a moment, and it licked its narrow, colorless lips - "could suggest a suitable person."

"In exchange for what boon?" Destruction pretended to be disinterested.

"Ah, yes. Always the businessman, Destruction." Epyon rose from its invisible seat, and walked closer to Destruction, beginning a lazy orbit of him as it spoke in its silken voice. "As you might know, this is a very valuable favor I ask, and I ask it out of desperation. Thus, you could very well ask any price you wanted, and I would grant it through every means necessary." Epyon's pace slowed, coming to a stop almost directly behind Destruction. "Once they worshiped you as a god, Destruction." Its voice was a near whisper. "It could be that way again. It could be greater than it ever was, with even greater power."

"Hardly, Epyon. The mortals no longer need what I am, here. Were I to want such things, all I would have to do is find a primitive world without Gods yet blighting its surface. You offer me nothing yet I want, Epyon. I hope you have better offers."

"I was only beginning, Brother, I can offer you far more than a godhead."

Destruction felt Epyon's leather gloved hand on his shoulder, and it took his entire force of will not to shudder at the touch of such evil.


	11. In taberna quando sumus Part Two - In the Heat of Hell, In the Cold of Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quidam ludunt, quidam bibunt, Some gamble, some drink,  
> quidam indiscrete vivunt. some behave loosely.  
> Sed in ludo qui morantur, But of those who gamble,  
> ex his quidam denudantur some are stripped bare,  
> quidam ibi vestiuntur, some win their clothes here,  
> quidam saccis induuntur. some are dressed in sacks.  
> Ibi nullus timet mortem Here no-one fears death,  
> sed pro Baccho mittunt sortem: but they throw the dice in the name of Bacchus.

Destruction pulled himself away from Epyon's gloved hand and turned, eyes burning, ready to strike at the demon in human form. Epyon backed away swiftly, avoiding any blow that might have come in a motion so fluid it baffled the eye.

"Speak what you intend, demon, else I'll take your tongue and be done with it." Destruction growled.

"My apologies, though I thought we were beyond such labels of language, brother." Epyon again seated its self in the blackness of the vacuum, calmly spreading its gray and burgundy coat about it. "So what is it that you want? I must puzzle this out on my own it seems. Not power, no. What am I, a simple servant of Chaos, to offer power to one of the Endless?"

"Your prattle is beginning to annoy me, demon."

Epyon's flawless face formed itself into a line-less frown around the thin, bloodless lips. "If not power, perhaps companionship? Surely it is lonely in your distant wanderings, without the friendship of another immortal being. I could create a companion for you, to your exact specifications of course, and tailor make it for you myself." Epyon reclined back, its eyes half closing, face softening. "Something tall, nicely built, with a good mind - "

Destruction's frown deepened with every comment. "You mistake me for Desire, Epyon. My exile is self imposed, and I would rather it be solitary than be with any creature of your creation."

"There are other things that I could offer in a similar vein, Destruction. Keep your mind open to such things. Simply because you are Endless does not mean forsaking the pleasures of the flesh, as both your elder brother Dream and both of that pair of horrid twins realize and remember." Epyon's pose had gone more fluid, more relaxed, and its eyes were nearly closed completely as it spoke.

"Are you so short on boons to offer that you whore yourself out like this? I thought better of you, Epyon." Thus far, Destruction had found none of the baits even partly tempting to take. He could not very well take a less than grandiose boon from the demon, even as bait.

"Very difficult, you are, Destruction." Epyon rose again, and faced Destruction across the void, regarding him with those fiery, lifeless blue eyes. "If not for you, then perhaps something for someone close to you? Hmm, no real friends and no lovers that I know of, so who -" Epyon's eyes snapped open, coming to a hard focus on Destruction while the rest of the face softened into a sly smile. "As I recall, you were always sweet on that younger sister of yours, that poor dear Delirium. She was such a beauty when she was Delight, what a shame all of that had to happen to her."

"Don't speak of things you know nothing about, beast." Destruction snapped before he thought better of it.

"Ah -yes. Still a sore spot that, I see. What if I could grant you something that would benefit her?"

"I'm listening, Epyon."

"Something vastly valuable, that could change everything. Such a poor thing, half-mad as she is. What if I could put and end to her suffering?" With a sudden fluid motion of a hand, Epyon produced a glowing sphere of light. After balancing it delicately on its fingertips, it deftly tossed the sphere to Destruction, who caught it one handed. "See what I offer?"

Destruction held the sphere close to his eyes, and stared into it. Inside its glowing surface was the image of a young woman, perhaps in her late teens it seemed, dressed in a long white robe, over which long, honey blond hair fell in a cascade. She was holding a candle in one hand, her other hand brushed the strands of hair from her silver-blue eyes. The girl was Delirium, but changed some how, different, grown into -

"Devotion. Isn't she beautiful?" Epyon was now standing beside Destruction, gazing into the ball over his broad shoulder. "I could do that for her, accelerate her growth to this next stage. It would be hard, but I have the power to do such things." Its voice was silken again, seductive.

"You have finally tempted me, Epyon. Grant me this, and I will secure your passage into the sphere of Earth, but not before. You must carry this out as soon as I find the mortals to summon you, and then I will contact them and grant you access to the sphere."

"You are sly, Destruction. A man of brains as well as brawn; I admire that." Epyon turned on its heal in a swirl of burgundy, gray and silver. "I will wait for your word, Destruction, I am pleased you are so amiable to this deal."

"Until then, Brother." Destruction left it at that, and vanished again in a thought.

He reappeared in the domain of Desire, the body-temple of the spirit of the whims and wants of the heart, in the gallery of his sibling, suddenly swallowed by the heat of the place compared to the coldness of space.

"My sibling, I stand in your gallery, for I have disbanded my own. I wish to have a word with you."

"Hmpt," came the disembodied voice of Desire, "Rude as always, brother. I see your long sabbatical has changed you none. If you must speak to me, come up to my eyes, so that my viewing is not disturbed."

Only vaguely insulted by Desire's dismissing nature, Destruction did as his sibling bade, and stepped again through nothing into the viewing room of Desire. Desire was resting on the back of the retina, watching the universe as projected its eyes.

"Just in time, dear brother, to see this very fascinating event. It is truly amazing the things mortals will do with one another at my bidding. And while not unique in its own right, this is certainly unique in the motivations for its -"

"I have no interest in your perverse games, Desire." Destruction attempted to avoid looking at any of the images displayed on the walls of the room. "I have use of your services, Desire. I require the location of a mortal with certain interests."

"Hmm? Finally getting adventuresome?" Destruction glared. "No I thought not. What do you need?" Destruction described his need to find a proper mortal to summon Epyon, and implement his trap, but omitting the favor he sought from Epyon. "Ooo, what a lovely game you play, Destruction. Perhaps you have been paying attention to me all these centuries. I have just the mortal for you, in fact a pair of them for you whom have been seeking after such a thing. They are perfect."

"Who are they?"

Desire only pointed at one of the images on the wall.


	12. In taberna quando sumus Part Three - An Accounting of Mysteries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Primo pro nummata vini, First of all it is to the wine-merchant  
> ex hac bibunt libertini; the libertines drink,  
> semel bibunt pro captivis, one for the prisoners,  
> post hec bibunt ter pro vivis, three for the living,  
> quater pro Christianis cunctis four for all Christians,  
> quinquies pro fidelibus defunctis, five for the faithful dead,  
> sexies pro sororibus vanis, six for the loose sisters,  
> septies pro militibus silvanis, seven for the footpads in the wood,

"Treize, either I've finally gone mad from binding glue or I've found what you were after." It was DeWitt, calling from Miskatonic. "But if I have found it, I think we may be in for an interesting time."

"Chris, I worry when you say interesting. What have you found?" Treize again sat in his office, curled behind the huge mahogany desk in a dressing gown. The time difference was murder. He remembered once when Chris had offered to show him something interesting in school. It had turned out to be a minor imp he had summoned that was happily snacking on a professor's book collection in an office.

"I'm not sure I could just tell you and have you think me sane." A pause, Chris was talking to someone in the same room as him. "Look, I'll be there in a few minutes, and I'm bringing a few books with me. I'll explain it then."

"You'll be here in a few minutes? How?" He found himself staring at the phone like it was a mad hallucination.

"I - Look, don't worry about that, just expect me in about, oh, five seconds." And DeWitt hung up the phone with a loud click.

Treize sat staring at the phone, still not sure what to make of the frantically excited tone of his friend. Any further speculation on the topic was prohibited, however, by the sudden arrival of DeWitt, a large stack of very old books, and a very tall, broad shouldered man with red hair. Chris' expression was one of impossible elation, a child suddenly turned loose in a combination candy and toy store, with all the light of wonder and discovery of an abstract physicist being handed a unified field theory. By comparison, the face of the tall, mysterious man was calm, placid, and almost amused at Chris' elation.

"Chris, just what is going on. And who is this?" The anger in his voice was more from shock than anything.

"Oh, dear gods, where do I start." Chris looked around in a panic.

"At the beginning?" Suggested the stranger.

"Ah yes." Chris looked around again, more calmly, located a chair, and threw himself down into it. "The parts you sent with me were the key to it all, Treize. I ran a series of tests on them, trying to identify what sort of energies they had been exposed to. They had the usual sort of residues, minor spirits, imps, gremlins, nothing out of the ordinary, until I ran the tests on some of the computer system components and the piece of the CPU you salvaged. That was when things got interesting. The residues that exposed themselves there were like nothing I had ever seen before, at least never in an actual experiment. The results were so unusual I had to consult those." Chris gestured absently at the stack of books, looking at them fondly. "Needless to say, it took me nearly an entire night to even find them in the university libraries. No one really goes looking for the old necrological-biology texts any more, so they had been put in a storage room. And it took me another night to find what I was looking for, simply because I had to translate on the fly half of what I had to read through." Chris sprang at the stack of books and pulled the top one from the stack. It was about four inches thick, bound in red and black leather with gold leaf script across its spine. With a quick flip, he turned to a page about halfway through the book. "And this is what I found."

Chris handed the open book to Treize, looking at him expectantly. Treize scanned the page, finding much of the text complete gibberish, and the illustrations horrific. The creature illustrated on the left-hand page was a multi-legged monstrosity with two pairs of bat wings, the one on the right an equally horrific tangle of tentacles and spines. Treize got the impression that these were drawn from second hand accounts of these creatures, and poor ones at that: the images were sketchy and half finished, detailed just enough to be frightening. But he still hadn't the slightest clue what these creatures were. He handed the book back to Chris.

"What the hell are those things?"

"That's where things get interesting."

"There's that word again."

Chris frowned. "They're Elder Demons. Not demons as in the damned soul type, demons as in secondary elemental forces incarnated. These things are old, beyond imagining old, and powerful beyond our conceptions of the term. Half the texts I found that mentioned them refused to even speculate as to what their powers are, the other half simply said not to mess with them. Though not in so many words."

"What are you getting at, Chris?"

"These are what give the Gundams their power. Each of the Gundams has one of these imprisoned inside them, bound to the CPU. These things are upgrades of the very conception of enchanted weaponry, Treize."

"So where does your strange new friend come into this?" Treize asked, looking at the silent stranger.

"Until this gentleman showed up, I didn't think the binding of an Elder Demon was possible. In fact, all my sources said it was exactly that, and fatal to try." Chris stood, and set the book back down on the stack. "This gentleman appeared in my office this evening, offering me not only the means to summon and bind an elder demon, but the name of a demon to summon!"

"You still haven't introduced him." Treize chided.

"Ah yes. This is the hard part." Treize's arched brows shot up another notch. " I know, I know. Treize, this is one of the Endless, one of the personifications of the primary forces of reality. This is Destruction."

Treize simply looked partially stunned, refusing to gape in either disbelief or wonder. "Ok. Chris, you're loosing me again. What are you thinking?"

"The power behind the Gundams are the elder demons that each one has imprisoned within, bound into its computer system. That's why your lab data didn't match the observed performances. That's also why you could never build a system as powerful, unless you managed to summon, capture, and bind one of these incredibly powerful, and very violent I might add, beings. Destruction is offering us a chance to do just that, and the means by which to imprison and bind the demon, something far beyond, or at least I thought far beyond, mortal ability."

"Ok, that was easier to understand. But why is he," Treize looked at Destruction for a moment, "offering to help us?"

"You are a paranoid man, Treize Kushrednada, as I was warned you were. But it has served you well, so I will not be offended. I have made a bargain with this demon, to grant him access to this world, in exchange for something valuable. However, I cannot just turn him loose on the planet, for he would destroy it eventually. Thus, I seek to imprison him by having him bound into one of these war machines of yours."

"Treize, how soon can you have a Gundam-like mobile suit built?"

"There is one already finished, Chris, in the hangar out back. All it is waiting for is final weaponry and a coat of paint." Treize smirked as Chris stared slack jawed.

"It will not need any additional weaponry, for the binding will complete it." Destruction said. "However, the summoning will require much energy, as will the binding."

Treize looked a question at Chris. "He means a blood sacrifice, a big one, and preferably human."

Treize shrugged. "Chris, you forget, a war is on. That sort of thing is not a problem at all. A word to one of the refugee camps and I can have as many people as I wan who will never be missed."

"Ok, well -" Chris simply looked pale. "It will take me about two days to get together everything we need, and to set up the summoning circle around the Gundam. It will need to be moved to the courtyard as well."

"Just get it done, Chris."


	13. In taberna quando sumus Part Four - The Brother of the Devil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Octies pro fratribus perversis, Eight for the errant brethren,  
> nonies pro monachis dispersis, nine for the dispersed monks,  
> decies pro navigantibus ten for the seamen,  
> undecies pro discordaniibus, eleven for the squabblers,  
> duodecies pro penitentibus, twelve for the penitent,  
> tredecies pro iter agentibus. thirteen for the wayfarers.  
> Tam pro papa quam pro rege To the Pope as to the king  
> bibunt omnes sine lege. they all drink without restraint.

Duo didn't understand how this had come to happen, nor did he want to think about the implications of Quatre's new Gundam in the hands of Romafeller. All he understood was that he was being forced into the belly of the beast that had near driven Quatre insane, that Death had warned him about, and that had driven its most recent pilot to threatening to destroy an entire colony. He was being forced to fight.

It indeed felt like he was in the gut of some great monster, surrounded by coils of wire, pulsing lights, his body all but swallowed in the crash couch. The hum of the systems was like breathing, the thrum of the pneumatics like a heart beat. Worse, Duo could feel things moving around him, invisible even to his eyes, probing at him and touching him, trying to attach to him. He could feel the very essence of the being that inhabited this Gundam, and could feel it trying to merge with him, to posses him.

"Zephiruxs." Duo said quietly, almost sub-vocalizing.

"You know my name, mortal?" The voice that filled Duo's head was maddening, like a group of people all speaking at once, each voice delayed a few moments from the next. Seven voices, each different, speaking as one.

"I was warned about you by my Mother." He said it slowly, vocally capitalizing the word.

"Yes." A pause. "I can feel her touch on you. Powerful she is still. But you are in my grasp. She cannot protect you here." The invisible tendrils grew more forceful, forcing themselves at him, and then worse, he could feel them sliding beneath his suit and worming themselves under the skin of his arms and legs. He only began to scream when they began doing the same to his face.

 

The universe lost its self in infinite iterations on that scream, becoming a radio receiver lost from its signal. Duo felt himself separate, becoming a duality, at once in the seat of that womb of terror, and somehow removed from it, someplace other, filled with gray light. Dual sensations, dual images, dual memories, flooded a mind unable to cope with them. Duo screamed once more, though he was unsure if he had ever stopped screaming to begin again.

The separation completed its self.

Duo found himself floating, fetal, in a sea of gray light. His mind felt raw, his limbs did not want to move correctly, and his body felt strange. He was naked, cold, his hair floating loose around him with a life of its own, and the gray light made it hard to look at anything. The realization that followed was enough to drive his brain back into shock for a few minutes. He had wings. A pair of large bat-wings were folded against his back, curled against the arch of his spine.

Duo forced his eyes open again, and forced his entire body to move again, uncurling from the fetal ball. And as he uncurled, he felt her presence beside him.

"Duo, I'm sorry." Her face was sad, pale against the gray light.

"I'm dead, aren't I?" Duo shivered, and wrapped his arms around himself, trying to get warm.

"Yes. But it is only temporary. Your body is still alive, possessed by Zephiruxs." She extended a hand to him, and he reached out for her. Her hand was warm. "I'm sorry, it's not something I would have normally allowed to happen. But you are needed here, for something far more important." She drew him closer, still holding his hand, and put her free arm around his shoulders. "Duo, something is happening that has only happened once before. And as eldest, it falls to me to make sure everything goes well."

"What is happening?" Duo felt the chill of recent death fall off of him, so close to her. Though in her human state, he could feel her presence throughout this place. This was the realm of Death. In the distance of the gray light, little children were laughing softly.

"Delirium is growing; she's becoming something new." Death's face was serious, almost worried. "She's being reborn, Duo. Destruction came and told us. She is in her realm, which is changing around her."

"What do you want me to do?" Duo had no idea what to expect, or really what was happening.

"Duo, she needs someone to be with her when she is reborn other than family, someone to help her understand who she is. We are by our natures only what we are named, with difficulty understanding things beyond who and what we entail. Only a mortal can do that."

Duo floated, unmoving, and stared dumbly at Death. He felt his mind numbing over again, and his first instinct was to curl up again, and wrap his new-found wings tightly around his body. She tugged gently at his hand again, and he looked up at her, into obsidian black eyes.

"Come quickly, Duo. Please."

As she was leading him off into the gray light, Duo found himself wondering where she lead those she lead out of life in this place. Duo shrugged the thought from his mind, and opened his wings, and began to learn how to fly.


	14. In taberna quando sumus, Part Six - The Book of the Righteous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parum sexcente nummate Six hundred pennies would hardly  
> durant, cum immoderate suffice, if everyone  
> bibunt omnes sine meta. drinks immoderately and immeasurably.  
> Quamvis bibant mente leta, However much they cheerfully drink  
> sic nos rodunt omnes gentes we are the ones whom everyone scolds,  
> et sic erimus egentes. and thus we are destitute.  
> Qui nos rodunt confundantur May those who slander us be cursed  
> et cum iustis non scribantur. and may their names not be written in the book of the righteous.

Being born, Epyon decides, is a horrible thing.

Like all creatures beyond the substance of the physical plane, whether below or above it, to enter the physical it must be born into it. Until it is born, it is but a ghost, a shadow, able only to weakly affect things in the physical. It has no mass, no gravity, no self of physical matter. It is simultaneously its self and nothing at all. The pain is the pain of paradox.

And being born, Epyon reflects, is a pain even a being greater than a god can forget. Worse than giving birth, an act of creation that even the chaos of Epyon's being is capable of, the pain of being born is like nothing else. But even that, it knows, can be forgotten, since it has been born before many times.

The pain will grow worse, it remembers. This is only the beginning, as the circles are laid for the summoning, as the altar is cleaned and prepared: it is even less formed than an embryo now. It is quite literally, a thought. Worse will be the imprisonment of the womb, and the struggle to be free, to become its physical self beyond the body of its host-mother.

And the worst, Epyon knows, is the first breath. It is the actualization of the physical self, the final severing of the cord of vorporial nature. The first breath is the breath of life: the complete antitheses of its chaotic nature. Until that breath is drawn, it is immortal, inviolate, beyond the touch of anything physical. After it, it is as mortal as a god. And as Epyon full well knows, gods can die very easily.

So wrapped up in its pain, it barely feels the first twinges of the spasms that will soon rock reality. It knows full well what will result from its gift to Destruction, from the change of one of the very primal essences of the Universe its self, and knows that such a change will leave ripples in the pond. More aptly, it will leave tsunamis in the ocean that is creation. And, in the wake and ebb of those great waves of change, eddies of chaos will thrive. Epyon would laugh were it not for the feeling of simultaneously having its insides on the inside and outside.

As its being compacted in onto its self out of the weight of paradox, into the idea that would soon be embryo that would soon be life, Epyon exerted its will a final time before surrendering its self. It forced its jaws and throat into being, and sang in a voice of the madness of the gods.

"Come now, opener of the way. Come now, ease the path for me. I am the birth, the death of life. Winds of madness again bear me alight..." The old hymn died as the very form of Epyon vanished into thought and potential.

Birth was, as Epyon had remembered, a very painful thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End Act Two


End file.
